BABBTOWN — Almost 90 years ago, Ed Schroeder, Sr., and his family gathered together on Thanksgiving to butcher hogs, a tradition they call “Pig Stickin’” that continues. The family expects about 70 people to gather at Jason and Kristin Schroeder’s farm in Babbtown, where butchering has taken place since 2001.

Ed Schroeder, Jr., Jason’s father, recalls his parents butchered hogs the first year they were married, in 1937, and the process has never stopped.

In 1945, the family moved into the “green house” on the DJ Schroeder farm, and Ed Jr. remembers butchering that year with help from his grandfather, John, and Uncle Charlie.

Over the years, the families grew, and the facilities became too small for the increase in the number of hogs and people helping. Ed Jr., married with four children, and his brother Charles, married with five children, taught the families the ins and outs of butchering.

“It’s been a family tradition that helps us all,” Charles said on Saturday as the family prepared for Thursday’s event. “The whole family gets meat for the winter, and it’s a chance for everyone to participate.”

It starts with the hogs, which the family had raised for many years. “Dad always had some hogs, and I was in the hog business for many years, so we furnished them,” Charles said. “Of course, everyone paid for their hog.”

DJ operated the hog business until getting out in 1998 due to diminished viability.

“Back in the 1970s, a lot of people used to have a lot of sows around here,” Charles said. “MFA was big there for a while in feeder pig production, and you could have 10 sows. A lot of people just had a 10-sow operation, and  they had feeder pig barns to sell the pigs.”

While Osage County was once a large hog producer, Charles said the last 50 years have been rough for farmers. “I think that the pork producers in business now that are big enough are doing all right, but the little producers just couldn’t do it anymore.”

DJ added that while costs have increased, the family’s operation is decidedly less expensive than buying finished meat from a business.

Now, the hogs are provided by Ed Jr.’s granddaughter, Aidan, and her husband, Kenny Dickneite; they own Miller County Swine. Each family decides what they need.

“We talk about it ahead of time and figure out how many we need,” said Charles, noting that he and his wife, Doris, just use a half, while others may use two or three.

The hogs are delivered either the night before Thanksgiving or early the morning of the holiday.

The two-day process begins with killing, hanging, and quartering, with the hogs left in the cooler overnight, after which the family begins cutting, processing, and making sausage.

A particular family favorite is panhaus (also spelled panhas, ponhaus, or pannhaus) refers to a traditional German-American dish closely related to scrapple, originating from the frugal cooking traditions of German colonists who settled in Pennsylvania and other parts of the United States in the 17th and 18th centuries.

Panhaus is a savory breakfast food made from the byproducts of butchering a hog, such as pork scraps, trimmings, and bones. The process involves boiling these parts to create a rich broth, then straining the broth and mixing it with a thickening agent (typically cornmeal, and sometimes flour or oatmeal) and various spices.

The resulting mush is poured into loaf pans to cool and solidify. Once firm, it is sliced and pan-fried until the outside is golden brown and crispy. 

For many years, making panhaus was led by Ed Jr.’s wife, Grandma Jeri, who passed away in 2001.

“When things moved to our farm, we attempted to make panhaus without her,” Kristin said. “Everything she used was based on ‘hands’ measurements. We didn’t really have a recipe, so we had to start from scratch, just from memory.”

Doris began making the panhaus using her hand as the measurement, and the recipe was written down, safe for future generations. Now, other ladies in the family lead that project.

Doris continues to lead the blood sausage operation. “We put the mix in cotton cloth sacks, which I make, and put them in kettles with boiling water,” she explained, adding she does the same thing with liver sausage.

Family traditions require a transfer of generational knowledge, which begins with the youngest children, who start with easy tasks. “They’ll see an older kid doing it, and they tag along and help,” Kristin said. “When we’re cooking panhaus, some of them may come in and help us hold the pans. A lot of them will help cut meat, and some of them will help mix the sausage because it’s a bit of a chore to mix all the seasoning in there.”

Once the sausage is done, the children are given a bite to test the seasoning. “That’s how we teach,” Kristin said. “The little ones will take a little wagon and bring the heads up here for the guys to work on. I think that’s the way most of them start off doing it. The kids look forward to it. They’re up early, and it’s obviously a good time because they get to play with their cousins. But, they’re more pumped than the adults to get going.”

Charlie added that some of the younger boys take turns putting wood under the kettle and learn how to do it right. “They learn things like not putting cold water in a hot kettle by watching it,” he said.

Jason noted that the family gathering is important for continuity. “We get the kids involved because of the importance of showing the next generation how to do it, and how to survive,” he said.

Kristin added, “Things just don’t come free. You’ve got to work for it. Most of them are farm kids. They understand that, but I think it’s teaching them that if you want to eat, you’ve got to do the work.”

The butchering process begins with a durable scalding tank built by Ed Jr. in the early 1980s. Preliminary scraping helps, but once the hog is scalded, most of the remaining hair comes off, with final touch-ups before the slaughtering begins.

Hogs were once hung on wooden poles, but that was replaced with a steel scaffold once the family ran out of room.

Everyone has a role to play in the process, and once the cutting is done and packaging is underway, the lard is rendered. “We have neighbors that want lard, who still make pies and things, and it’s so hard to find,” Kristin said. “You can buy lard in the store, but it’s just not the same.”

Kristin and Doris agreed that the best part is how family members sit together telling stories. “That’s probably one of the highlights everyone looks forward to,” Kristin said.

While the majority of the group is the Schroeder family, there are friends who have helped for years.

Details are posted every year on the Schroeder Butchering Facebook page, maintained by Austin Schroeder. Joanne Schroeder provides a newsletter to the family every year.

“A lot of people look forward every year to see what we do because I think it’s a good memory for them,” Kristin noted. “At one time, nearly every farm family took part in butchering season. As those traditions fade, we’re grateful our own can bring back the sights, sounds, and stories so many remember from their childhood. Watching our tradition helps them revisit the memories that shaped their own.”

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